


The Domestication Process

by SandM1827



Series: Son Shine [3]
Category: Sons of Anarchy, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Humor, M/M, mentions of past rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3756151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandM1827/pseuds/SandM1827
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“All’s fair in love and war, babe. And by war, I mean tiny children with access to glitter.” </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Warning: Mentions of past rape/non-con, possible self-harm and eating disorder triggers.  
> Gifs: [Nosy Neighbors](http://stilinski-ortiz.tumblr.com/post/115961682214/son-shine-nosy-neighbors-the-domestication), [Reaper](http://stilinski-ortiz.tumblr.com/post/115847987135/son-shine-reaper-the-reaper-doesnt-sit-on).
> 
> I know a lot of you wanted fluff and happy happy joy joy. I will get to that in other additions. I tried to put some of it in this, but it is set not long after they moved to Oregon so they are both still dealing with a lot of trauma that needed to be addressed. In the parts that will be set further in the future, it will be easier to make it more happy go lucky.

There was a sense of foreboding following him all day that he could not, for the life of him, shake. It was not the _something is going to go horribly wrong_ feeling that hung over his head when he was in Beacon Hills or Charming. It was more of a _something is going to ruin my already bad day_ , kind of thing. Wendy waiting for him on the porch when he pulled into the driveway only exemplified that feeling.

“Fuck.” He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, trying to prepare for whatever she was planning to tell him.

He really didn’t want to hear whatever it was. He was tired. It had been a long day and a longer week. He had classes Monday thru Friday. He worked at the coffee shop, yeah, a college student cliché, Monday thru Thursday and Sundays. It was Friday now, he was supposed to be able to get a paper or two started and then chill out with the kids and Juice.

He climbed out of the jeep knowing that any idea of relaxation just went up in flames. He dragged his bag out with him, mindful of his laptop, and slammed the door a little harder than necessary.

“What’s going on?” He questioned as he stepped onto the porch.

“You need to get Juice out of the house.” She folded her arms over her chest defensively.

“Excuse me?” She couldn’t possibly be saying with he thought she was saying.

“He needs to get a job or a hobby. All he does while you are gone is clean, watch weird animal documentaries, or cook disgusting health food.” She shuddered, whether it be because of the food or cleaning he didn’t know. “He is driving me crazy.”

“You know he can hear you.” He probably had an ear tuned on the door the moment Stiles parked the jeep in the driveway. “If he wants to stay home and do what he does, then that is his decision. If he wants to go get a job or a hobby, that is his decision. You and I won’t make it for him.”

“Five people cannot live on a part-time baristas salary.” Yeah, he did not need a reminder of that now. “Clay and Juice’s life insurance payouts will not last forever. We both know you are going to put more money into TM then you will get out of it and whatever you’re getting from Red Woody is going straight to the garage.”

“If you are so worried about it then get a fucking job, Wendy.” She and Juice were both fully capable of taking care of the kids. She could just as easily go out and find them another source of income. That burden did not automatically fall to Juice. “Do not bring this up to me again.”

“Okay, _Jax_.” She leveled him with a glare. “I’m going to a meeting.”

“You do that.” He studiously ignored her attempt at insulting him by calling him his brother’s name.

He left her on the porch without another word. Stomping into the house, the only thing keeping him from slamming the front door was the fact that there was a child present. Abel was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the television watching a cartoon and biting into an apple.

“Hey, buddy.” He greeted the boy, who flashed him a toothy grin. “How was school today?”

“Good!” Good was good. It was a step up from the _okay_ ’s he received every other time he asked. “I made a friend.”

“That’s great.” Abel had been having a hard time socially. They even had a meeting with his teacher about it. “What’s their name?”

“Molly. She invited me to her birthday party.” That was quick if they had only made friends that day. “Can I go?”

“I don’t see why not.” He would have to talk to the girl’s parents first.

“You have to email her mom. It’s in there.” He gestured wildly to his backpack, where the address must have been on a sheet of paper somewhere, before giving Stiles a rather dubious look. “Maybe Wendy or uncle Juice should do it.”

“I’ll do it tonight.”

“You’ll forget.” Abel’s tone was not lacking accusation.

“Will not.” Jeez, you forget the kid one time and he holds it against you forever.

It wasn’t like he forgot him at the store or something. He left him at the house one morning when he was supposed to take him to school. He made it all the way to the elementary school before he realized the boy wasn’t with him.

“Will too.”

Stiles was a mature adult, so he did not stick his tongue out at his nephew as he passed him and made his way into the kitchen. Thomas was scooting around happily on the tiled floor in his walker, while Juice was standing at the counter chopping up fruit.

“Honey, I’m home.” Juice’s face scrunched up at the endearment, causing Stiles to lay it on a bit thicker. “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too.” They were both blatantly aware of the internal struggle Stiles had when getting ready to leave the house every morning. “How was class?”

“It was class.” He couldn’t think of one good reason as to why he decided to continue his education. “I used to like learning. I swear I did.”

“You’ll like it again, when it’s stuff you are actually interested in.” Hopefully, his lack of interest in his current classes was not going to show up in the work he did.

“You’re probably right.” He said as he dropped down into a chair, pushing his bag away from him on the dining room table. “Did Abel tell you the good news?”

“About his little girlfriend? Yeah.” Girlfriend? Stiles shuddered at the thought. He figured they had at least nine or ten years before they dealt with Abel bringing home significant others. “I was kind of surprised by the girl part. I think I was still in the _girls are gross and have cooties_ stage when I was his age.”

“I was knee deep in my infatuation with Lydia…and Chibs.” His husband let out an undignified snort at the admission. “What?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” Juice quirked his lips up in a smile and Stiles couldn’t help but be a little mesmerized by it. He did not get to see that very often. “I always knew you had a thing for Chibs.”

“I’ll have you know that my crush on Chibs vanished very quickly, when this teenager rocking a faux-hawk came walking into Teller-Morrow.” The older man’s face broke out into a blush. “Come on, you know I’ve been looking at you like you were the only person in the room since the day you showed up in Charming.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Call me corny, but, yeah.” He didn’t just say things like that, in that wording, to be cute. He meant every word of it. “Don’t act like you didn’t know.”

“I knew. I just wanted to hear you say it.” Juice sent him a flirty wink that had him flushing red. It was starting to feel like old times, before all the madness of the last year happened.

“I will tell you whatever you want to hear and mean it from the bottom of my heart.” He claimed before letting out a long yawn. “I may need some coffee first.”

“You are in luck. I made a fresh pot before you got home.” He would cop to the whine that escaped his mouth when he caught a whiff of the delicious brew Juice set in front of him, followed by a bowl of assorted fruits. “Eat that.”

“Yes sir.” He learned not to argue when it came to his food intake. There may or may not have been an incident where he fainted because of his lack of food in his system caused by unintentionally skipping a few meals. Juice took it upon himself to keep track of his meals now and Stiles let him without complaint.

“Want to go to the farmers market tomorrow?” Juice asked as he took the open seat next to him.

“Didn’t we do that last weekend?” He understood Juice’s thing about food. He liked it organic and healthy, it was a, _your body is a temple,_ kind of thing. He got it, accepted it, grudgingly sometimes. He just did not understand why they had to go to the farmers market every freaking Saturday.

“Fruit and vegetables run out and go bad.” He pointed out, stealing an orange slice from the bowl. “I can go by myself.”

“I’ll go with you.” He was not going to miss out on a couple hours with his family. “If you want to grow your own stuff, you could always rip out the rose bushes in the backyard.”

“Tear up your grandfathers roses? Are you nuts?” It wasn’t like Nate was worried about them now. “Is this your way of suggesting I find a hobby?”

“Do not align me with Wendy.” Any humor or flirtation between them was sucked out of the room in an instant. “If you were listening to that, then you heard my side too.”

“She’s not exactly wrong.” And that is what Stiles got for trying to defend someone. “Five people cannot live on one salary and dwindling savings.”

“I’ll figure it out.” He got lucky with his scholarship and the house being paid off.

The problem was there were still groceries, gas, water, electricity, property tax, Nate’s care, which he was also using as a cover for Gemma’s Eichen House bills. There were a number of other things that, when added up, were going to put them in the red sooner rather than later.

“ _We_ will figure it out.” Juice corrected in a tone that left no room for argument. “It’s a two-way street. I started looking for jobs in the paper and online a couple days ago.”

“Find anything good?” He wasn’t going to discourage Juice from getting back in the world if he really wanted to, even if it scared him shitless.

“A few prospects.”

“Care to share?”

“A couple garages are looking for mechanics.” Stiles tried not to react to that, but the anxiety must have shown on his face. “That would be a little like playing with fire, I guess.”

“No, it’s not… it’s not like some gateway drug or something.” His head might be telling him that working in another garage could somehow lead Juice back to the club life, especially with the Rogue River only a few hours away, but that was his paranoia at work. “If it’s what you want to do, you should do it.”

“I don’t want to do it. Okay, that is not entirely true. I do want to. I’m good at it.” Juice tapped his fingers against the table, as he seemed to find the right words to explain why being a mechanic was not an option any more. “I don’t think I can be in that kind of environment right now. Around all of those people, almost every day.”

Juice used to thrive being surrounded by people. He was a social guy by nature. That part of him had been seemingly stripped away now. He was nervous around too many people. It made him twitchy and set him on edge. It was one thing for Juice to be around Stiles and the boy’s, it was different for him to be in a crowd all by himself.

“I pass a tattoo place on my way to school. They put up a sign recently saying they’re hiring.” Juice had done his ink, it turned out awesome if he did say so himself. “It could be cool.”

“Touching people.” He tended to shy away from people now, which was completely understandable given what happened to him.

“With a needle.” He felt a little squeamish just thinking about it.

“There is a job I put in an application for. It’s in technical support.” He could get back to his computer hacker roots, kind of. “It’s a call center type thing. They call in. I listen to what problem they’re having with their device and I try to help.”

“Sounds awesome.” It sounded boring as fuck, but if Juice liked it then more power to him. “Those call centers are packed with people, though.”

“That’s the thing. I can do it from here.” It sort of defeated the purpose of getting out of the house, but it was still progress. “It will probably piss Wendy off.”

“Fuck Wendy.”

“Our neighbors already think I am.” Juice said with complete seriousness in his voice.

“What?” He replied dumbly, because _what the actual fuck?_

“The neighbors think Wendy and I are married.” Stiles was fairly certain his jaw hit the floor. “And you’re the rent-boy we hire to spice up our sex life.”

“What the fuck?” That was wrong on so many levels, not to mention an image he did not need in his head. “How do you even know that?”

“I heard them talking when I was mowing the front lawn yesterday.” Werewolf hearing, man, it was a blessing and a curse.

“That might explain why the old lady from down the street told me that I should be ashamed of myself for degrading the good Reverend’s home.” She had stopped him when he was taking out the trash a couple of days prior to talk to him about his lifestyle. “Here I thought she had something against homosexuals.”

“None of them seem to mind that.” Juice said thoughtfully. “There’s a lesbian couple two doors down that Wendy’s making friends with. I don’t think sexuality really bothers these people.”

“Just paying for sex.” To each his own, he supposed. “I don’t care what they think about us, honestly. They have been nice enough to leave us alone.”

“They leave you alone because you’re gone most of the time and they think you are a prostitute. They love coming to talk to me.” Juice cringed as if it were the most annoying thing in the world. “They keep reminding me that they haven’t had a chance to host a _Welcome to the Neighborhood_ barbecue for us.”

“We’ve been here over a month, haven’t they forgotten about that yet?”

“I don’t think they will shut up about it until we agree to it.”

“A _Welcome to the Neighborhood_ barbecue. Jesus. It just sounds like a suburban nightmare.” He was sure they only did things like that in movies and television.

“That’s what happens when you move to the suburbs.”

“We live in a cul-de-sac.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“We are so out of our element here, aren’t we?”

“Scared of the suburbs?”

“Just the repetitive lifestyle it comes with.”

* * *

 

Stiles was lagging behind as they walked from booth to booth. He let the stroller take most of his weight as he pushed it over the pavement. Juice was ahead of him by a few feet, Abel’s hand in his as they walked side by side. It was adorable and Stiles may have snapped a photo without them noticing and set it as the wallpaper on his phone.

Those two were in good spirits, enjoying their time at the farmers market and the day in general. Stiles and Thomas? Not so much. The summer heat was making them cranky. They had been stopped half a dozen times since they arrived by people wanting to _coo_ at the baby. He was well aware that Thomas was a cute kid, but he did not need to be told every five minutes. They were probably the only ones at the market not having a good time.

“Do you want to leave?” Juice’s voice startled him into a stop. He didn’t even notice the older man had slowed his pace to allow him to catch up.

“No, it’s okay, we can stay.” He wasn’t going to make Juice and Abel leave just because he wasn’t enjoying himself. “I could use a cup of coffee though.”

“Don’t you get enough of that at work?” He shook his head, he rarely sampled product from work. The coffee he made was too damn expensive anyway. “Would you be open to trying something new?”

“I don’t know.” He had given up many of his favorite foods to support Juice’s healthy lifestyle crap. He didn’t want to give up coffee too. “I don’t like change. I like coffee.”

“You drink too much coffee. “ He scoffed at the allegation. “You have a two pot a day habit. It’s not healthy.”

“You’re not healthy.” He muttered under his breath causing his husband to chuckle.

“Go find somewhere to sit down and I’ll get us some drinks.” Stiles gave him a nod of confirmation as he walked away.

He took Abel’s hand to keep him close, not wanting to lose him in the crowd. He led him and Thomas to a free bench, sitting himself down and pulling his oldest nephew onto his lap. He turned the front of the stroller toward him, so he could look in on the baby.

He pushed his sunglasses up his nose to block out the bright daylight as he waited for Juice to return. Thomas was sleeping soundly in the stroller, a plastic key-ring clutched in his tiny hand. He draped a small blanket over the top of the stroller, shading the baby from the direct light. Abel’s baseball cap seemed to be doing a good job of protecting him from the harsh rays.

“Here,” Juice held out a cup as he sat down beside them. “Drink this.”

“What is it?” He questioned as he took the proffered item, eyeing it suspiciously. “It’s green.”

“It’s good for you.” He handed a smaller cup with identical liquid in it to Abel. “Trust me.”

“Oh, I trust you.” Trusting him was not the problem here. “It is the drink I do not trust.”

“Those shamrock shakes you like from McDonalds are green and you drink those.” That was an entirely different situation and a different shade of green. “I’m not going to tell you what’s in it or what it’s called, because you would throw it away. Just taste it.”

“If it’s gross I’m going to dump it on your head.“ He threatened halfheartedly.

“You do that.”

“I will.” He psyched himself up before tipping the cup back and taking a small sip. He was blessedly surprised when the contents didn’t make him want to gag. “It doesn’t suck.”

“That’s a compliment coming from you.” Juice quipped. “What do you think, Abel?”

“It’s good.” The boy proclaimed. “I like it.”

“Good.” Juice gave him a shit-eating grin and his best _I told you so_ look that had him rolling his eyes.

“He’s five. He eats dirt.” He replied petulantly.

“Do not!” Abel shrieked indignantly.

“Sure you don’t.” Stiles patted in shoulder consolingly.

“You want me to cook tonight or do you want to do it?” Juice asked, changing the subject. “It’s Wendy’s turn, but I doubt she would actually do it.”

“Wendy would burn the damn house down.” He grumbled low enough for only Juice to hear. “Or poison us. I’ll do it. You have cooked every night this week, you deserve a night off.”

“Are you going to tell me about this beef you have with Wendy?” His husband inquired. “You were fine with her, friendly even, and now you are not. If this is about her thing with me – “

“It’s not.” He said quickly before backtracking. “I mean, it is, a little, I guess, but it’s not only that. Can we talk about this later? When the kids are not in the immediate vicinity?”

“Sure.”

* * *

 

Juice settled the boys into the living room so Abel could watch and movie and Thomas could sleep in the playpen, before joining Stiles in the kitchen. The younger man was scrubbing soapy dishes in the sink before placing them in the dishwasher. Gemma used to do the same thing, wash the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. He wasn’t about to point that out to Stiles and put him in an even worse mood than he was already in. Instead, he stood beside him to rinse and load after Stiles washed.

“Wendy’s in the shower.” He told him. “The boys are content in the living room. Want to talk?”

“About?” Stiles wanted to play dumb, which he only did when he absolutely did not want to talk.

“What is going on with you and Wendy?” They had to get to the bottom of it before things became incredibly uncomfortable for everyone.

“I don’t know. She’s just rubbing me the wrong way.” He dropped his gaze, turning his focus entirely on the plate in his hands. “Every time she comes in the room I just can’t relax.”

“I’ve noticed.” He would keep the fact that Stiles could not relax period, whether Wendy was present or not, to himself. “Did she do something?”

“No, she hasn’t done anything.” He said exasperatedly. “Aside from telling me to get you out of the house, which she had no right to do. I have no fucking clue why she thought–“

“Stiles.”

“What she thinks she can say whatever she wants and no one will get upset about it? God forbid anyone speak against her in fear that it will send her over the edge and into a relapse.” He was on a roll now. “Well fuck if I’m going to walk on eggshells around her because she’s weak.”

Stiles slammed the plate into the sink to accentuate his point, causing it to break in his hands. The scent of blood hit Juice’s nose before it showed itself in the dirty dishwater. Stiles didn’t react. His hands stayed gripped around the shards of the glass plate until Juice reached in his own to pry them away.

“Uncles?” Abel called from the doorway.

“Everything’s fine, Abel.” Juice assured the boy. “Go finish your movie.”

Stiles kept his eyes toward the floor as Juice pulled his hands away from the sink. They were bleeding profusely, cut deep enough to need medical attention. Stiles didn’t seem to be in any pain, or maybe he was but didn’t care. He grabbed a clean dishtowel from the counter to help stave off the bleeding on one hand, his concern growing when Stiles didn’t even flinch when he wrapped it tightly around the wound.

“We have to take you to the hospital or urgent care.” He concluded upon further inspection of the cuts. “These are deep.”

“They’re fine.” Stiles said lowly. “Just need a bandage.”

“You need stitches.” He tied a second towel around the other hand. “A band-aid is not going to be enough.”

“There’s a needle and thread in the junk drawer.” He might have thought he was joking if not for the flatness of his tone. “Peroxide and gauze in the first aid kit.”

“You want me to stitch you up?” There was no way in hell that was going to happen. “No.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

“No, you are going to see a doctor.” He wasn’t going to let Stiles hurt himself worse. “Let me go tell Wendy we’re leaving, so she can keep an eye on the boys.”

* * *

 

The ER was pretty busy on a Saturday night. He and Stiles spent a few hours in the waiting area with other patients that did not have life threatening injuries. Stiles hadn’t said much at all since they had arrived, only answering questions for the paperwork Juice filled out for him, then keeping quiet the rest of the time.

He was nearly lethargic by the time the nurse took them back to a room to wait for the doctor. It took them several minutes to get a response from him when asked about his pain level. The nurse eventually took Juice aside to ask if Stiles was on anything. It took some convincing to make her believe that Stiles was clean.

It was only when the nurse left them alone did Juice become agitated. Being in a hospital setting sent him back to his last morning at County, being locked in the infirmary with Lin’s men, bent over the gurney. He quivered at the memory and began pacing the length of the room. His eyes strayed to the nearest exit, the open door, to prove to himself that he wasn’t trapped, that he could leave if he wanted to.

“You are safe.” Stiles promised him in a hoarse voice. “You’re safe.”

Juice turned to his husband who looked small and fragile, sitting on the hospital bed, hands resting on his knees, bloody palms up. His eyes were clear in a way they hadn’t been since he smashed the plate in the sink. It was for him, he realized. Stiles had come back to himself, because he saw Juice beginning to panic.

“You’re not _there_. You are here with me.” Stiles continued, brown eyes locking with Juice’s. “Be here with me.”

That was what it came down to. That was what saved him and he was sure it was the same for Stiles. Being there, being together, was enough to banish the bad memories for just a little while. Even when the nightmares couldn’t be pushed away, just having Stiles near helped him cope.

He took a step toward Stiles, cupped his face between his hands. He brought their foreheads together, a gesture that seemed so much more intimate than a kiss in moments like this. He felt Stiles sigh, his body going lax and his own relaxing in return.

“I’m here.” He assured his husband in a whisper.

“Need you.” Stiles confessed weakly.

His grip tightened the slightest at the admittance. Stiles hated needing to be taken care of, needing people, more so than Juice did. He knew what it meant that Stiles was saying it now. It wasn’t because he thought Juice was leaving and he was giving him a reason not to. It was because he knew Juice would stay and trusted him to give him what he needed.

“We’re going to get these taken care of,” He reached a hand down to trail a finger over one of Stiles injured ones. “Then we are going to go home and sleep. Tomorrow we are going to take it easy.”

“I work tomorrow.”

“Doctor’s note.” He could only work the register with his hands the way they were anyway.

“Kids have to be looked after.”

“Wendy can handle them.” Stiles nostrils flared at the suggestion. “I don’t think your problem is with Wendy. I think she’s an easy target.”

“Who’s my problem with, then?”

“Let’s talk about that tomorrow.” It was too complicated to get into now. “Maybe we’ll go for a ride, stop somewhere in the mountains. We can talk, scream, yell, get all that frustration out somewhere no one can hear us.”

“I’m not frustrated with you.”

“I know.” Stiles anger wasn’t directed at him or any of the living, he was sure. “We yell at the world, at god, at the dead.”

“Think it will help?”

“It does in the movies.” Maybe it could work in real life too. “Sound like a plan?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

 

They sat on the park bench at a deserted rest stop overlooking the mountaintop. They passed a joint back and forth, doing nothing more than enjoying the sounds of nature in the morning. They were both weary from the drive up and the long night they had.

They didn’t return home from the hospital until well after midnight. Wendy and the boys were already tucked away in bed, so they headed off to their own room. Stiles had burrowed under the blankets as soon as he had changed into his pajamas, while Juice opted for his second shower of the day.

He did that sometimes, showered multiple times a day. He needed to wash away the feel of phantom hands roaming his body, that wrong, violated feeling that lingered. He scrubbed it away, once hard enough to make himself bleed. Stiles took to checking up on him after that. He would knock on the door if Juice had been under the water too long, so he didn’t scrub his skin raw and hurt himself.

He joined Stiles in bed after that, laying next to him, but keeping a measured distance between them. An invisible boundary, which could only be crossed if Juice felt like he could be touched. It was such a contrast to how they used to sleep, practically on top of each other with limbs tangled together, usually naked.

It meant everything to Juice that Stiles understood his newfound nervousness, his fear of physical contact. He was not afraid of Stiles, he knew the other man would never hurt him in that way, or any other way, but sometimes his body couldn’t differentiate between an innocent touch and a nefarious one, between the past and the present. Stiles did not push him for touch, he left Juice initiate every handhold, every kiss, everything.

But Stiles forgot sometimes, late at night when he was lost in slumber. His body would reach out for Juice, looking for comfort. They would both jerk awake at the immediate contact. They didn’t apologize for it anymore, they understood it was just something that happened now. It was part of their new normal.

Other times, like the night before, Stiles would make a conscious effort to seek comfort or offer it. He would lay a hand between them, like an olive branch, and let Juice make the decision to accept or not. On bad nights, he would press his lips to Stiles palm before pushing it back toward him. Some nights he would wrap his fingers around his husband’s wrist and refuse to let go until the alarm clock blared. On the rare occasion, like the previous night, he would allow Stiles to curl against him, to share his space, his warmth.

“Thank you for last night.” Stiles said as if he was reading Juice’s mind. “I know it’s hard for you.”

He knocked their shoulders together in response, earning a smile from the younger man. It amazed him how easily, how the smallest touch, could light Stiles up. He forced himself to touch Stiles more, even at the times when he didn’t feel like he could. Stiles caught on to those moments quickly. He would move away and send Juice a disapproving look. He only wanted Juice to touch him if he really wanted to, not because he felt like he had to.

“It’s nice up here. Quiet.” Quiet was generally a double-edged sword for them. It was both welcomed and feared. “The ride was nice.”

It was the first time Juice had ridden his bike since he had gone to jail. Stiles sat behind him, arms clasped around his waist and head resting on his back. Any other day Stiles would have been firmly against riding bitch and would have hopped on Jax’s Dyna. With his hands being injured, he wouldn’t have been able to grip the handle bars, so he didn’t complain when Juice suggested they only take one bike.

“You like it here?” He asked Stiles. “Not here, specifically, but in Oregon?”

“It’s okay.” He shrugged noncommittally. “It’s not home.”

“It doesn’t have to be forever.” They didn’t have to stay in Eugene for the rest of their lives. “We can go back to Beacon Hills when you’re done with school. We can go anywhere.”

“Except Charming.” Stiles reminded him. “Where do you want to live?”

“I don’t care where we go as long as we’re free.” He could not be trapped again, locked in a way of life that only death could get him out of.

“That sounds nice.” His husband replied wistfully. “I think when the kids are done with high school, when they move out, that we should sell everything we own. We should sell it all, and get an RV or get on the bikes and just go.”

“Go where?”

“Anywhere. Nowhere. Everywhere.”

Stiles craved freedom in its purest form. Juice had always seen that wanderlust in him, but Stiles held back from it. His family kept him grounded, in place. Gemma once told him that people like he and Stiles weren’t made to stay put, to live within societal norms. They needed freedom, that taste of the outlaw life, like they needed air. They would self-destruct without it.

“Maybe we should take trips during the summer. Just us.” He proposed as he held out the joint to the younger man. “Abel and Thomas can spend some time with your dad and we can have a small vacation.”

“I like that idea.” Stiles said as waved off the offered spiff.

“Are you ready to talk?” He questioned cautiously, not wanting to ruin their nice day.

“We are talking.”

“About this.” He gestured toward the bandages on Stiles hands.

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” There was no spike in his heartbeat, nothing to indicate a lie. “It was an accident.”

“You were pissed, so you broke the plate.” He should have let go of it the moment it shattered to pieces, but he didn’t. He held on until Juice made him release it. “You were angry at Wendy. She’s a trigger for you.”

“I already told you that I don’t know why. She’s an easy target, I guess, like you said.”

“That’s not all of it, Stiles.”

“I love Wendy, you know? Even when she was using or when Jax and Gem pushed her out, I tried to keep in touch so she knew she wasn’t alone.” Stiles picked at the gauze around one of his wounded hands as he spoke. “I love Tara too. I connected with Tara deeper than I did with Wendy. We understood each other on a different level. They’re both my sisters and I love them.”

“But?”

“It’s not fair. Tara did everything she possibly could to save those boys, to give them a better life. Wendy did nothing.” Grief and hatred leaked into his voice. “Wendy couldn’t even stay clean when she was pregnant with Abel. She nearly killed him before he was even born. Tara saved him, took care of him. She gave her life trying to give them a better one. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair that Wendy is alive and Tara’s gone.” Juice continued for him. “It’s not fair that Thomas will never know his mother, but will know Wendy. Those boys might look to Wendy as their maternal figure, when she has done nothing to earn the title.”

“I don’t think she came back to take them or whatever. I just hate the way it seems like she just slithered her way into their lives when Jax was weak.” It was exactly how it happened though, no matter Wendy’s true intentions. “I know it’s not fair to think like that. To take it out on her.”

“I think you’re having a delayed reaction to what happened.” Stiles cast watery eyes on him. “There was so much going on after Tara died that no one had the time to grieve. You have dealt with one thing after another since Tara and Jax, Bobby and Gemma. Dealing with what happened to them was pushed back. Now we’re settled, things are calm.”

“So, what, my subconscious has decided that it’s a good time for me to deal with my feelings?”

“You’re going to have to do it sometime.” He had been putting it off long enough. Juice, Wendy, and the boys had all gone through the motions, were still going through them, but Stiles forced himself to put it off. “All that crap you’ve got built up is coming out as misdirected anger, maybe not entirely misdirected, but still. Wendy’s an easy target now, but eventually she is not going to be enough. I would rather not be on the receiving end and I don’t want the boys to be either.”

“What do I do? I can’t just sit down and make myself mourn the dead.”

“I don’t know.” It wasn’t as if he was an expert on the subject. He was still trying to deal with things of his own. He didn’t know how to help Stiles through his. “When Melissa gave us that list of counselors, it wasn’t only for Abel.”

“You want me in therapy?” Stiles asked incredulously.

“What if we both went? Not together but...” He didn’t actually want to talk about his trauma with a stranger, but sometimes it was easier than talking to someone you knew. “It’s helping Abel.”

“My dad sent me to a counselor after my mom died.” Stiles admitted. “It wasn’t horrible. It might have helped, a little.”

“Do you want me to make you an appointment tomorrow?” He supposed he could make one for himself as well.

“I can make my own appointments. It’s a thing I do now. I am a grown up.” Juice chuckled at the petulance in his voice.

“Okay, when are you going to do it? While you’re at work or in between classes? While you are sleeping or spending time with the kids?” Juice inquired. “Your schedule is packed pretty tight. I can schedule our appointments, I have the time.”

“Thanks.” Stiles said sincerely. “Are we done with this heavy shit?”

“Sure.”

“If we are going to go somewhere this summer, where do you want to go?” He asked. “I veto Mexico. Nothing good ever happens when I go to Mexico.”

“We can spend a few days at the coast.” The summer was a long ways away from now. “Though that sounds more like something we could do on spring break with the kids.”

“We can go to New York.” Stiles suggested hesitantly. “You can visit your other family, the ones you want to see, anyway.”

“No.” Juice shook his head. “I’m not against the idea. I’m just not ready for that. Maybe in a few years, when I’ve got my shit together.”

“Have you talked to them since you left Queens?” So much for being done with the heavy shit.

“A couple of times. Marisol usually calls me to check in.” She was a bit of a mother hen. “It was easier for me to try and make a clean break.”

“Full moon tonight.” Stiles changed the subject as if sensing Juice’s discomfort. “How do you feel?”

“Energetic. Electric.” He could feel the wolf under his skin and it felt fantastic, not painful like Scott said it would. “It’s like all my sense are on a 150% power.”

“You can shift if you want.” Stiles encouraged. “Stretch your claws or teeth. We can always stay here for the moon. You can run in the woods.”

“I haven’t been through enough full moons to be comfortable having you with me on one.” He did not want to end up hurting Stiles. “I don’t want to lose control.”

“I do have some experience with out of control werewolves.” He reminded him. “I can handle it. I trust you to keep yourself together.”

“Do you have your mountain ash?” It was stupid question, Stiles always kept a vial on him.

“Yes.”

“We didn’t bring any food.” They hadn’t planned to spend a full day and night there, only a few hours.

“So we ride to that general store a few miles back and pick up some supplies.” Stiles easily came up with a solution to that problem. “We don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, but we have the option.”

“We can stay.” Juice studied him for a moment trying to figure out why this was so important. “Why do you want to stay so bad?”

“It’s open here.” He climbed off the bench and spread his arms wide. “It feels better here. I can breathe. I’m not….”

“You’re not suffocating.” He finished the thought the younger man couldn’t.

Stiles nodded but looked down, ashamed, curling his arms around his middle, trying to make himself smaller. Juice realized suddenly that Stiles didn’t think he was allowed to feel the way he did, like it was wrong for him to feel as if he was suffocating in their new life. And that was ridiculous.

Life in Oregon was so different from their previous lives. When Juice was with the club and Stiles was with the pack, danger and excitement were part of their everyday lives. Now they existed in a repetitive bubble of school, work, and kids. Everything was scheduled. Every day started and ended the same way.

“That’s okay, you know? You’re used to it being just you and your dad. Now you can’t turn around without stepping on someone.” He took the safest route in an attempt to nullify some of Stiles guilt. “It’s crowded and claustrophobic.”

“It’s not like that for you, though.”

“I spent most of my nights and days at the clubhouse, with members and croweaters, before that I grew up in a house where I was one of six kids.” Crowded was his normal. “You will get used to it. It just takes time.”

“Do you have anything you want to get off your chest?” Stiles asked out of the blue, once again changing the topic of conversation “This is a two-way street, as you said the other day. I am not the only one who is fucked up.”

“I’m okay.”

“I’m sorry, do I look like Chibs to you?” He questioned, crossing his arms over his chest and standing a little taller. “The, _I’m okay,_ bullshit doesn’t fly with me. Spill it, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” Pet names weren’t really their thing, they didn’t really sound right coming out of their mouths.

“You’re white-knuckling it just as much as I am. Talk to me.”

“It’s this, Stiles.” He held up his arm to show Stiles the tattoo he had gotten when he patched in to SAMCRO. “I was excommunicated from the club, more or less. I should have had it covered by now. It’s wrong for me to still have it.”

“I never said anything about it, because I thought you wanted to keep it. It’s dangerous to have it. It’s easily identifiable.” Stiles moved toward him to get a closer look at the ink. “I didn’t want the club to take everything from you.”

“The club hasn’t taken everything. I still have you. I can still talk to Chibs.” Being able to speak with Chibs when he called to check on Stiles helped him deal with not being a part of the club, not being able to talk to his other brothers. “I don’t need the tattoo. If I had gotten to walk away from the club, without having to die, I would have scraped the ink. It is wrong for me to have it. I’m not a Son anymore.”

“I don’t know how you can remove it.” Stiles acknowledged. “Scott had to have his burned into his skin. You would have to ask Derek if there’s a way, a _safe_ way, to remove it.”

“Okay.”

“Can I…” Stiles faltered as his eyes roamed the tattoo. “Would it bother you if I had it?”

“What do you mean?” It would bother him very much if Stiles decided to patch SACMRO or the Rogue River charter, but he didn’t think that was what his husband had in mind.

“I asked Chibs if it would be okay if I got the reaper tattoo. I was going to put it here.” He placed a hand over his heart. “It’s the only way I could think that would properly honor them all. Opie, Piney, Bobby, and…Jax.”

“Is Happy going to do your ink?” There was no way Chibs or the others would deny Stiles the right to wear the reaper.

“Yeah, it was the only requirement they gave me.” It looked like Stiles would be taking a trip to Charming soon. “Would it bother you if I had it? I don’t want to bring up bad memories every time you see me without a shirt.”

“It won’t bother me.” He tried to put the younger man at ease. “It’ll look good on you, a nice addition to your croweater tattoo.”

“No!” Stiles flushed a deep shade of crimson and pointed an accusing finger at him. “You are not allowed to make fun of me for that!”

“I’d never seen a guy with one before you.” Stiles crow was on his left forearm, usually hidden by his layer of plaid. “I was a little shocked when I first saw it, mainly because of how ugly it was.”

“It was Tara’s fault.” Stiles claimed pitifully, and Juice had heard that before.

Stiles had gone to Charming once Tara was released from the hospital after injuring her hand. They had gotten a little drunk, a little high, and Tara had somehow gotten a hold of a tattoo gun. They decided that Stiles, having swallowed some of Juice’s cum, was officially a croweater and he needed the ink to match his status. Needless to say it took a lot of work on Juice’s part to fix the sorry excuse for a crow Tara had half-assed on Stiles arm. Honestly, it was more something he expected to happen if Stiles were with Wendy. Tara had been the responsible one. However, Tara and Stiles brought out certain immature qualities in one another.

“If you would have patched in, you would have been the first Son to also be a croweater.”

“What an honor.” Stiles drawled sarcastically. “Hey, are you going to shift or what? I haven’t seen your wolfy face yet.”

“It’s still early.” He looked up at the bright sun.

“You don’t have to wait for the moon to rise to shift.” Stiles told him. “If that’s what Scott told you then he was lying. He pulls away from the wolf, he doesn’t fully accept it. It’s why he’s not as strong as he could be. It is why he still struggles on the full moon, though he hides it well.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“I was an alpha for a hot second.” He said casually, as if it were no big deal. “I didn’t find it to be as problematic as Scott does. I don’t know if it was because I didn’t fight it, or if it was because the wolf was so much weaker than the fox that lived inside of me.”

“Do you miss it?”

“The Nogitsune?” The was a dangerous road to go down.

“The wolf.” He clarified.

“No.” Stiles answered without hesitation. “I don’t want to be a wolf. I like being human.”

“And me?” Juice let his features change. He let his eyes glow blue, his claws extend, and his teeth drop down. “How do you like me as a wolf?”

“You have eyebrows so that’s a plus.” He joked, his hands reached out, stopping just before they made contact with him. “Can I feel?”

“Yes.”

He grabbed Stiles wrists, pulling him between his spread legs. Stiles giggled, fucking giggled, causing Juice’s face to break out in a grin. Stiles bit his lip as his fingers touched Juice’s brow, trailed the side of his face, from his cheekbones to his lips. He was humming to himself as he took in the new features.

Juice reached out a hand of his own. He ran it through Stiles hair that was matted down, flat from sleep. He went further, moving his hand down to graze Stiles jaw, letting the two-day stubble scratch his palm. Stiles leaned into the touch, his hum turning into a purr.

“I married a cat.” He mused more to himself than anything.

Stiles rubbed his scruff against Juice’s hand like a feline scent marking. There was still that underlying cautiousness, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to have this, allowed to touch. It was something he was grateful for and despised at the same time. It made him yearn for a time when touch was something that came so easily.

They used to offer it so freely to one another. They would gravitate into each other’s space like they were being pulled by a magnetic force. They would kiss like they were desperate for it, as if they would never have it again.

One day they could be like that again. They could get back to how they used to be, he was sure of it. It was just going to take time.

“Hey,” He whispered to his husband as his features morphed back to human form.

“Hmm?” Stiles eyes met his just before Juice brought their lips together.

It was soft, gentle in the way they were with each other now. Stiles fell into the kiss with a content sigh and let Juice take the lead. There was no frantic need to it like there once would have been. He kept it slow, enjoying the press of his husband’s lips against his.

It was Stiles that broke the kiss. He moved back far enough for their lips to part yet stayed closed enough for them to share the same breath. He gave Juice a considering look before kissing his cheek. Juice furrowed his brows at the gesture before Stiles did it again on the opposite side of his face. He did it again and again, peppering kisses enthusiastically on both his cheeks. He couldn’t help but laugh when Stiles stubble tickled his skin.

“You are a menace.” He grumbled into Stiles ear.

“Is that a problem?”

“Nope. I think I’ll still keep you.”

* * *

 

It was early the next morning when they arrived back at the house. Stiles was exhausted from being up all night and his legs were shaking as he dismounted the bike. Juice seemed to be on an adrenaline high, but the crash was coming, Stiles could see that much.

He leaned heavily against the motorcycle, not trusting his trembling limbs to carry him properly. He looked up at Juice who was eyeing the two women across the street shiftily.

“What?” He asked, wondering why they piqued Juice’s interest so much.

“They’re talking about us.” Oh, that was great. “How dare I leave my poor wife alone all night with our children, while I took my lover on a fun night out, and then have the audacity not to come home until after dawn.”

“Oh my god.” Judgmental freaks. “Forget them. We’ll be old news soon enough.”

“Yeah, okay.” He agreed. “Let’s go inside.”

“Yep, I gotta get ready for class.” It was going to be a very long day.

“Skip.”

“I can’t skip.” He could, but he would probably regret it. “I’ll power through it.”

“Skip.” Juice repeated then huffed when Stiles tried to take a few steps, only to stumble back to the bike for support. “Are you okay?”

“Does your wolf healing take away the tingly feeling you get after spending hours on a vibrating machine?”

“Yep.” The older man smirked. “You’re the one who wanted to take the scenic route.”

“My mistake.”

“I have a solution.” Juice stepped forward, and then turned his back on him when he was directly in front of him. “Hop on.”

“What?” His confusion only cleared when Juice crouched down slightly. “A piggy back ride?”

“Yeah, come on.” He patted his shoulder to encourage Stiles to climb up.

“Are you sure?” He couldn’t physically hurt Juice, but didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either. They already had more physical contact in the last two days then they had normally. He was enjoying it, but he wasn’t sure where the limit was and didn’t want to make Juice feel uneasy.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Juice patted his shoulder again. “I won’t drop you.”

“You better not.”

Fuck, they were that disgustingly cute couple, he thought as he hopped up on Juice’s back. The older man hooked his arms around Stiles legs while he curled his arms loosely around Juice’s neck. He had to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, which set off a fit of laughter in Juice. They hadn’t had this much fun in a while, it was nice.

“Onward, my steed!” He exclaimed dramatically, pointing toward the front door.

“Oh, Mr. Stilinski!” A shrill female voice called to them.

“Who is that?” He tensed up, slightly panicked.

“The lady from across the street.” Juice muttered back to him.

“How does she know my name?” He never introduced himself to the neighbors, he hadn’t had the time.

“She doesn’t. She knows mine.” Right, Juice was a Stilinski now too.

“Oh.” He nodded as Juice turned them toward the clacking of flip-flops of cement.

“Mr. Stilinski, I am so glad I caught you and your uh…friend.” She gave Stiles a tight smile. “I wanted to remind you and your wife, again, of that barbecue. We do it for all new residents. No exceptions.”

“Well, me and my _husband_ ,” Juice said pointedly. “Will have to check our schedules and find a good time.”

“Your husband?” She seemed a little surprised, but the judgmental look on her face was gone, so he considered that a win.

“I’m Stiles.” He offered her a smile of his own. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Ellen Blankenship,” She introduced herself. “I am so sorry. I just assumed the young woman who lived here was Mr. Stilinski’s wife.”

“No worries. Wendy is our nanny.” That was the easiest way to explain Wendy. “I’m rarely here, I’m busy with work and school. I can see how assumptions could be made.”

“Well, it is nice to finally meet you. You both seem to be on your way in,” She noticed. “I’ll let you get on with your day. Just let me know about that barbecue.”

“We’ll do that.”

“Have a good day you two.” She gave them a polite wave before she made her way back across the street.

“At least we got that cleared up.” He said through a yawn. “Let’s go to bed.”

“What about class?”

“I’ll skip.” He would end up falling asleep during his first one anyway. “I’ll go to my afternoon lectures if I’m up to it.”

“Okay.”

“Hey,” He tightened his arms around Juice. “Thanks for this weekend. I really needed it.”

“So did I.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“All’s fair in love and war, babe. And by war, I mean tiny children with access to glitter.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Warnings: Sexual dysfunction.  
> This chapter is set a few weeks after the first one.  
> Gif set: [Tech Support](http://stilinski-ortiz.tumblr.com/post/116602863524/son-shine-tech-supoort-the-domestication-process)  
> 

“Come on, baby.” Stiles pleaded with his favorite girl. “You can do it. I know you can. Don’t you do me wrong now. We’ve been through too much together.”

Apparently, his beloved Jeep needed more than pretty words to rev her engine. She flat out refused to start when he turned the key in the ignition. He tried a few more times for good measure, but there was no change.

“Damn it!” He slapped his palms against the steering wheel. “I am good person…for the most part. I don’t deserve this!”

With no other alternative, he climbed out of the Jeep and made his way back into the house. He passed through the empty living room and down the hallway until he reached the office where Juice had been spending his days since he began work for the call center.

The man in question was sitting in the desk chair with the phone receiver to his ear, while he typed away on the computer.

“Have you tried turning it on and off again?” Stiles brought a fist to his mouth to stifle a laugh, not doing a very good job of it if the middle-fingered salute he received from Juice meant anything. “Why don’t you give that a try and we’ll see if that fixes the problem.”

He leaned against the doorframe as he listened to his husband try to help the person on the other end of the line through whatever technical difficulty they were having with their electronic device. He was in his element, working with computers, but he looked more annoyed than anything. Stiles gave it a week before his irritation got the better of him and he quit. Wendy had fifty bucks on him lasting another two weeks.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on your way to class?” Juice spun the chair around to face him when he finished with his call.

“The Jeep won’t start.” It was one more thing to add to the list of crap he could not afford to fix. “I have a meeting with Abel’s principal before my second class and I’m missing my first just to be there. Give me a lift?”

“You don’t want to take the Volvo?”

“Wendy has to pick Abel up in it later. If my hands were a hundred percent I would take one of the bikes, but they’re not.” The stitches were gone now, but they still ached, and he figured they would for some time. “You gonna make me walk?”

“No, I’ll take you and pick you up when you get off work.” Juice slipped on his boots before standing. “I’ll look at your Jeep when I get back. With any luck it will be an easy fix.”

“If it’s not?”

“Well, you are the proud owner of an automotive repair shop.”

“Proud is a strong word.” It was nostalgia that kept Teller-Morrow under his ownership. If it hadn’t been such a fixture in his childhood, if it hadn’t belonged to Jax, then he would have sold it. “And, sure, I’ll just pay to have the jeep shipped to Charming and hope they can bring her back to life. It might be better if I just scrap her.”

“Let’s be real, you would let her become a fossil in the backyard before you ever took her to a scrap yard.” It was a true enough statement. His jeep was too important for him to just give away. “I’ll take you to school, and then I’ll come take care of your baby.”

“Be gentle with her.” He urged with not even a hint of sarcasm. “She’s been through a lot. Treat her right.”

“I promise.” He would ignore the mocking tone because he knew Juice would do everything he could take get his girl running again. “Come on, we should get to that meeting with Abel’s principal.”

“You coming in to talk to her with me?”

“It beats waiting in the car.”

* * *

 

“Hello,” A middle-aged brunette woman greeted them as they entered the office. “It’s nice to see you both again.”

“Principal Greene.” Stiles offered her a nod as he and Juice took their seats.

“It’s JC,” The confidence she had saying Juice’s name was long gone when she made an attempt at his. “I hope that I’m saying this right, Mieczysław?”

“Stiles is fine.” The only person he ever let call him Mieczysław was his mother. “I’m not sure why we are here. Is there a problem with Abel?”

“Abel is great. His teacher has nothing but good things to say about him. He is helpful and kind. He’s making new friends every day. He’s a very well-adjusted kid.” That was all good news, but it did not explain the need for a meeting. “This is about you, actually.”

“Excuse me?” He said defensively.

“It’s been brought to my attention that neither of you have had the opportunity to become involved in our school.” That was not what he was expecting, but it did nothing to relax him. “We highly encourage parent participation here.”

“Parent participation?” That sounded a hell of a lot more daunting than it should have.

“What does that mean exactly?” Juice knew how to ask the important questions and Stiles was grateful for that.

“Once a week, a parent comes in to help with a class project.” Abel was in kindergarten. What kind of project could he possibly have? ”It’s all scheduled so that no one misses out or is passed over. Abel’s teacher, Ms. Sullivan, will put you both on rotation and let you know when you should be there.”

“We would love to do that, to participate.” Stiles pasted on one of his best _I swear we are normal_ smiles, and saw Juice cringe out of the corner of his eye. “The thing is, we are both really busy. I know that is a terrible excuse, and you probably hear it all the time, but it is the truth. We both work and I’m in school. I just don’t think we will have the time.”

“Participating in your child’s education is incredibly important to their growth – “

“We understand that.”

“Great.” She smiled as if they had just agreed to something, which, no, they had not. “I will have Ms. Sullivan put you both on the list.”

“Wait just a minute,” Stiles had zero time in his schedule for this. “I understand the importance, I do, but I just can’t.”

“Technically,” Juice flashed him an apologetic look before throwing him under the bus. “He is Abel’s only legal guardian on file. He is Abel’s parent, so…”

“We are married.” Stiles reminded him. “That makes you his guardian by proxy.”

“Not under my new name we’re not.” The older man said barely above a whisper, low enough for only Stiles to hear.

“I’ve just sent an email to Ms. Sullivan.” The principal’s voice broke through the glare Stiles was sending Juice. “She will call you when she has your schedule. Now, if you will excuse me, I have another meeting. You can show yourselves out. Thank you for coming in.”

“Thank you.”

Juice trailed after him like a kicked puppy until they were in the parking lot. Stiles tried not to feel a little hurt by the man’s words. He knew he didn’t mean them the way they sounded. Still, it was a dick move to pull in the middle of a meeting.

“I’m sorry,” He rounded on the other man. “ _'Not_ _under my new name we’re not.'_ What the hell was that?”

“That was me trying to get out of spending hours with a bunch of hyperactive five years olds. You would have done the same thing.” Okay, that was kind of true. “And we aren’t married under the law anymore. You are widowed.”

“You are – _were_ – an outlaw. Since when does a legal piece of paper mean anything to you?”

“It doesn’t.” Juice assured him. “But you cannot put that you are married on official paperwork without it looking suspicious.”

“Suspicious to whom? The feds?” The older man nodded in confirmation, as if that were the only correct answer there could be. “You think they’re watching me?”

“Watching? No. Keeping track of you? Yes.” Why the hell would the FBI be interested in him? “You are Jax’s brother. You control his assets now. At the very least they are going to keep track of your paper trail, to see if you plan to follow in his footsteps.”

“That’s ridiculous.” He probably wasn’t wrong though. “So it would more than likely set off some alarm bells if I filed a new marriage license so soon after my first husband’s death. Especially since you have the exact same first two initials in your name, and you and I share a last name.”

“It doesn’t mean we’re not married. It’s just not legal. A couple of years ago it wouldn’t have been legal anyway, considering we’re both dudes. It doesn’t change anything between us.”

“Duh.” He knew a stupid certificate didn’t change their relationship, their feelings for each other. “You tried to use it to worm your way out of parent participation.”

“I did do that.” He didn’t even sound sorry about it. “All’s fair in love and war, babe. And by war, I mean tiny children with access to glitter.”

“Oh god,” Stiles exclaimed suddenly when a realization hit him. “We will have to do this all again with Thomas, won’t we?”

“Yep.” Juice seemed just as thrilled about it as he was. “Speaking of kids, did you remember to email the mom of Abel’s friend about her birthday party?”

“Oh fuck!” He slapped himself on the forehead. “I completely spaced it off.”

“Damn it, now I owe Abel five bucks.” Juice grumbled as he unlocked the doors to the car. “I was rooting for you. Abel didn’t think you would remember, but I did.”

“Have you been placing bets with my nephew?” At least he was betting for him and not against him. “If you wanted to win you could have reminded me to email the lady.”

“It was against the rules.” He shrugged. “Don’t worry, Wendy talked to Molly’s mom a few days ago when she picked Abel up from school. She R.S.V.P.’d to the party.”

“Then why did you bring it up?”

“I like watching you squirm.”

“You’re an asshole.”

* * *

 

Taking the bus home from work was not in his plans for the day. Unfortunately, his husband had forgotten to pick him up and was not answering his phone. Stiles had resigned himself to his fate, fished some change out of his pocket, and made his way to the nearest bus stop.

It was easy to determine why Juice wasn’t answering his calls when he returned home. The heavy metal music blaring from the garage was a good indicator of where Juice was and why he probably couldn’t hear his phone going off. Stiles went around the house and entered through the side door of the garage to see what was going on.

Juice was working under the hood of the jeep, standing on a stepladder so he didn’t have to climb inside of it like Stiles did when he was tuning her up. He was bent at waist, his jeans stretched over his ass. Sweat soaked his wife-beater, droplets rolling down his neck and the bulging muscles of his arms.

“Jesus Christ.” He whined breathlessly, startling Juice enough to make him bang his head against the jeeps hood.

“Fuck! That hurt.” He rubbed his forehead and looked over at Stiles. “What are you doing home so early? I thought I was picking you up?”

“You were picking me up. I’m home _late_ because I had to take the bus.” Whatever annoyance he had about that had dissipated the moment he took in the delicious sight he was ogling now.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I guess I got caught up.” He gestured sheepishly toward the car.

“It’s okay.” He joined him next to the jeep, peeking in to see the damage. “Be straight with me, how bad is she?”

“I had Wendy put in a call to TM so they could special order some parts and have them shipped here.” That sounded expensive. “It’s going to take me a little while, but I’ll get her going again. Once I get the parts, she should run like a dream, so long as you don’t crash her into anymore giant lizards or trees.”

“I’ll do my best.” He did not intend to get into another accident. “Why do you have the door closed? It’s hot as hell in here.”

“I had it open for a bit, but I was drawing a crowd.” He threw a superstitious look toward the door. “The younger women have the sense to look away when they realize I know they’re staring. The elderly ones have no shame at all.”

“Sorry.” He kind of felt bad now for the erection he was sporting from seeing his sweat soaked husband in action. “There’s a box fan in the basement you can bring up here. That way you won't die from heat stroke.”

“I’ll grab it tomorrow. I’m almost done for the day.” Juice leaned back over the car, making the denim of his pants hug his ass in the best possible way.

“Fuck me.” He whimpered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” He said quickly while adjusting himself in his jeans. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“You’re going to go jerk off.” His husband tossed a knowing smirk his way.

“Yeah, that too.” There was no use in denying it.

“Have fun.” Juice encouraged. “Don’t use up all the hot water. I gotta get in there after you.”

“Yes, dear.”

* * *

 

Stiles was sleeping when Juice walked into their bedroom, lying on his stomach, towel wrapped loosely around his waist. He must have fallen into bed when he finished his shower, not even bothering, or having the energy, to get dressed.

He stepped closer, sitting on the edge next to his husband. He ran a hand through Stiles hair. He traced the dark circles under his eyes with a finger. He ran his thumb over his bottom lip, Stiles tongue darted out to encircle it, his lips curled around it to suck it into his mouth.

“Christ, Stiles.” He hissed a little louder than necessary, causing Stiles eyes to flicker open. His gaze seemed to take in all of Juice, from his hands to his chest, until they finally reached his face.

“ _Mmph_.” He pulled his lips away with a pop. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

The scent of Stiles arousal was heavy in the room. The younger man buried his face in his pillow and shoved an arm underneath him, and Juice just knew he was hard. He expected pleasure to be the next aroma to fill his nostrils but instead it was frustration mixed with a hint of pain.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Stiles only shook his head in response, his entire body beginning to tremble.

Deciding his shower could wait, he kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed behind his husband. He wrapped an arm around Stiles torso, pulling him onto his side so his towel covered ass was flush with his crotch. Stiles jerked at the movement, his nervousness flooding Juice’s senses.

“Okay?” He asked, placing a hand on Stiles naked chest to brace him.

“Yeah.” He sounded so small, so unsure of himself. “Sorry.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” To the best of his knowledge, Stiles had nothing to apologize for. “Why are you sorry?”

“I’m hard.” That was blatantly obvious given the tent his towel was making.

“So?” It wasn’t something he needed to apologize for. “Jerk off session in the shower wasn’t enough for you, huh?”

“I couldn’t cum.” He admitted with a pitiful whimper. “I kept hearing Abel run down the hall and Thomas crying. It’s fucking distracting…and weird.”

“Tune them out.”

“I can’t.”

“Try.”

“I have tried!”

“Maybe you need something else to focus on.” He placed a sultry kiss behind Stiles ear. “A distraction from your distraction.”

“If you have any suggestions…” Juice rubbed his fingers over Stiles nipples, causing his breath to hitch. “Y-you don’t have to.”

“I want to. Do you?”

“Yes.”

Stiles moved into his touch as he his hand trailed down his chest, nails gliding lightly over his abs, to his hips, until he reached where the towel was tied. He pushed it away, relishing in the way Stiles cock looked free of its fabric cage. He brushed his hands through the thatch of hair his cock was nestled in before wrapping them around his hard shaft.

“Oh, fuck…” Stiles whimpered, bucking up into his fist. “Please.”

“Please, what?” He asked huskily, as he pumped his hand around Stiles dick. “What do you want, Stiles?”

“This,” He cupped his hand around the fingers Juice had on his cock, tightening them just a fraction. “Just this, please.”

“Like this?” He set a quicker pace to his movements around Stiles dick, causing him to cry out. He clapped his free hand over Stiles mouth, knowing it wouldn’t take much for someone to burst through their bedroom door. “Ssh. Gotta keep quiet. Too many ears in this house.”

Stiles licked his hand before sucking two of his fingers between his lips. Juice’s hips thrust against Stiles ass at the sight, and, fuck he hadn’t realized how hard he was beneath his jeans until that moment. His husband must have noticed to if the way he moved his ass back against Juice’s pelvis meant anything.

He tossed a leg over Stiles thigh, pulling him impossibly closer. He pounded his crotch against Stiles with abandon, chasing the need that had eluded him for so long. Stiles deep throated his fingers, moaning around them as he fucked into Juice’s fist. He clamped his human teeth to the back of Stiles neck to muffle his cries as his own orgasm hit him. Stiles body seized, a load groan escaping his mouth before cum spilled over Juice’s hand.

Their bodies shook as they came down from the pleasure induced haze. Juice released Stiles neck, licking the indents in his skin that his teeth left behind. He removed his spit soaked fingers from his husband’s mouth, grasping his chin, and turning his head to bring him into a brutal kiss.

“Shit…” Stiles panted out when they broke apart. “You…that…you…”

“Yeah, me.” He grinned at how articulate the younger man could be after he'd cum. “And you.”

“Fuck.” Stiles relaxed against him, looking down to where Juice’s hand was still firmly wrapped around his cock. “Is there engine grease on my dick?”

“Uh…” He hooked his chin over Stiles shoulder to gaze down at his dick, which did have a visible amount of dark gunk mixed in with semen. “Yeah, that’s my bad. I didn’t wash my hands after I got done in the garage.”

“I’m going to need another shower.”

“Yeah, you’re kind of gross now.” He laughed when Stiles sent the heel of his foot back into his shin. “You can shower with me.”

“You sure?” He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He appreciated the gesture, but he would not have asked if he wasn’t sure. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll shower with you.”

“Then wrap that towel back around your pretty ass and let’s go.”

“You are full of it today.”

It was a damn shame they didn’t have an adjoining bathroom. It meant they had to ninja their way into the one down the hall without anyone hearing them, then lock the door so no one could get in. Juice stripped off his shirt as soon as the door was secure. He leaned down to turn the faucet on, hoping the water would heat up before he finished undressing. He turned to face Stiles to see him standing naked, his towel having been discarded into the laundry basket, a look of pure lust in his eyes as they roamed his body.

He took two steps forward then dropped to his knees in front of him. Juice’s breath caught in his throat as Stiles deft fingers worked the button and zipper of his jeans. He reached out to still his movement only when they reached for his waistband.

“I just came.” As gorgeous as his husband looked on his knees, he doubted he could get hard no matter how much he wanted to. “My refractory period isn’t that good.”

“It’s not your dick I want.” Stiles confessed before yanking down Juice’s pants and briefs.

He was intrigued and a little nervous, not entirely sure what Stiles had in mind. Stiles seemed to sense that. He looked up at Juice with his brown eyes asking for permission to proceed or to be denied.

“Okay. Go ahead.”

Stiles licked a strip through the pool of cum on his stomach. His knees went weak at the sight, at the feel of his husband mouth suckling at the groove of his hips, of the tongue brushing across his abdomen. His hand sunk into Stiles hair as the younger man licked him clean.

“I don’t know what has gotten into us,” He moaned when Stiles tongue lapped closely to his sensitive cock, which made a valiant effort to harden. “But I hope it sticks.”

It had been months since they had been this close without the barrier of clothing between them. He had almost forgotten what it was like, to be with Stiles like that. To feel and to be felt.

There was still so much that they couldn’t do, that he wasn’t ready for. There was so still healing that needed to be done. This, though, this they could have.

* * *

 

A loud banging noise startled Stiles awake the next morning. He flailed out of bed so violently that he nearly brained himself on the side table.

“What the fuck?” He questioned the empty room as the noise sounded again and again.

He got up off the floor and just barely resisted the urge to grab a pistol from the safe. He walked cautiously out of the bedroom and down the stairs, making his way toward the sound coming from the office. His husband was standing in front of the desk smashing a golf club down onto the landline phone.

“Hi.” Juice froze at the sound of Stiles voice.

“Hey.” He stared at him with wide-eyes, letting the club fall to his side.

“You done?” He spared a glance at the battered phone, which most definitely was unusable now.

“Yeah.” His gaze flickered from his weapon to the device like he might try and get one last shot in.

“So, how was work today?” Juice worked half-days on Saturday, unlike Stiles who had the day off.

“Fantastic.” He replied while tossing the golf club to the corner of the room and dropping down into his computer chair.

“What’s going on?” He already knew the answer, but it was customary to ask anyway.

“They’re just so…” He ran a hand down his face looking stressed out and frustrated. “They’re just so fucking stupid, Stiles.”

“Problems that can be solved using the on again/off again method?” Those ones always made Juice look like he wanted to throttle someone.

“Yes. It’s simple shit they could figure out on their own if they had half a brain.” Juice needed problems that were a bit more complex than that to be satisfied in his work environment.

“Can I make a suggestion?” Juice waved his hand in a _go ahead_ gesture. “Quit.”

“I can’t quit.” There was no reason for him not to. “We need the extra income.”

“You hate it. You should quit. We will find another source of income.” The money hadn’t run out yet and Stiles had an idea of how to make more. “You were different yesterday. You were happy.”

“I had a good day.”

“You were relaxed.” That was something neither of them were anymore. “When I came into the garage and saw you working on the jeep you were so…. It was like a weight had been lifted off you. You had music blaring. The doors were closed. You weren’t listening or looking for a threat, or an escape route. You weren’t tense. You were happy. We were happy.”

“Where are you going with this?” He was agitated now, digging his nails into the skin of his hands.

“It was the same when you woke up this morning.” He had given Stiles a filthy kiss and a lewd smile before climbing out of bed and leaving Stiles to rest for a few more hours. “Then I come in here and you’re tense again.”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me, Stiles.”

“You said you would want to work in a garage, but you didn’t want to deal with the same people every day.” He wasn’t ready to deal with new people. “You were happy working on my jeep. You hate talking to people on the phone all day.”

“All of that is true, yeah.”

“What if we opened our own garage?” Juice’s eyes damn near bulged out of his head at the proposal. “Just something small. You can be your own boss. I can work their instead of being a barista. You can do something you actually want to do.”

“Stiles, you already own one garage that sucks up cash.” Fucking Teller-Morrow. “Why would you think one we opened would make us money?”

“I’ve done the books at TM, okay? It would be making a profit if we didn’t pay so much for insurance.” The rate’s were so high because the old clubhouse was on the same property. There had been one too many gunshots and explosions for the insurance companies liking. “Any garage we open will not have an MC taking up residence in the parking lot, so the insurance won’t drain our wallets. I want to do it because you have been doing things you don’t like to for a long time. You deserve to be able to do what you love. I’m willing to take the risk if you are.”

“It costs money to start a business.” Okay, he would admit that was a fair point.

“I can get a loan.” There were small business loans available. He could put one of the houses he now owned up as collateral. “We can use TM’s suppliers. We can make it work. If I can get us the money, would you consider it?”

“If you can get us the money, then I will do it.” Juice ceded, a smile overtaking his face.

“It’s your thing, though. I’ll get the money and the list of suppliers, but you are doing the rest. It is your business. It’s your baby.” Stiles name would have to be on the paperwork, simply because he wasn’t ready to test out Juice’s new identity just yet.

“Our business.” The older man corrected. “Our baby.”

“Okay, but you are the boss.” Juice needed something that was his and Stiles would damn well give it to him. “I will be nothing but a silent partner and humble employee.”

“Silent and humble,” Juice drawled. “If there were ever two words used to describe you…”

“Shut up.” He could be silent and humble if he wanted. He just chose not to be. “So do we have a deal? Are we opening a totally legitimate automotive repair shop?”

“Yeah, we are.”

“Awesome.”

“We’re going to call it _Mieczysław’s_.” Juice quipped.

“Over my dead body.”

“You need to go get dressed if we’re going to leave on time.” He said, changing the subject and confusing the hell out of Stiles.

“Leave?”

“For the airport.”

“Are we going somewhere?” Nobody told him they were taking a trip.

“You are going to Charming.” Why the fuck would he do that? “To get your ink done.”

“That’s this weekend?” He was sure that was scheduled for next Saturday. “Isn’t that stupid barbecue this weekend and my trip to Charming next weekend?”

“You are going to Charming today. The barbecue is tomorrow afternoon.” That did not seem right at all. “Chibs knows what time you have to be at the airport in the morning, but I’ll text him a reminder to make sure he gets you there on time.”

“How did you know all of this and I didn’t?”

“I have this thing on my phone called a calendar.” He deadpanned. “I type in appointments and it sends me alerts at scheduled times.”

“Okay, smartass.” He couldn’t believe he had forgotten everything he had to do. “I haven’t even packed.”

“You did that two days ago.” Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with him? “You only had to pack a change of clothes and your laptop. It’s an overnight trip.”

“I have no recollection of packing.” Or of scheduling his flight, or the trip in general.

“I hear getting the proper amount of sleep at night helps with memory.” Stiles was absolutely not going to take the bait his husband was dangling.

“I sleep.” Okay, so maybe he was a fish and the lure Juice held had something interesting on the end that he wanted to investigate.

“You’re the first one up and second to last one down at night.” Juice was usually the one to be the last to go to bed.

“Bullshit. I slept later than you today.” He had woken up briefly when his husband had gotten out of bed but had fallen back into a restful slumber quickly. “I’m pretty sure I was the first one actually in bed last night.”

“You were nice and sated last night.” God damn right he was. “Most nights your head is so busy that it keeps you awake, makes you restless. It was clear last night. It let you drift right off. Your body finally let you catch up on all the sleep you miss when you stroll the halls at night.”

It was an overwhelming anxiety that pulled Stiles out of bed more nights than not. He would remove a gun and mountain ash from the safe and venture out. He would unlock and relock every door and window. He would shine a light into every room, closet, and crawl space. He would pace the hallways, eyes locked on the entry points. He always expected someone to break in, to take what was left of his family.

Juice watched him on those nights. He would stand in the doorway or sit on the stairs. When the exhaustion would become evident, he would take the gun from his pliant hands and guide him back to bed. They didn’t talk about it in the daylight hours. It was just something that happened now.

“I can’t control my hyper vigilance.”

“I know. I’m not bringing it up to be an asshole. I just think you need to sleep more.” If he could sleep more, he would be doing it. “Do whatever you have to do to shut your head off at night.”

“I used to jerk off every night before bed.” Most mornings too, of course that was back when he lived in Beacon Hills. “It always did the trick.”

“There’s nothing stopping you from doing that now.” Sure there was. “I don’t care if you do it in bed, or you can do it in the shower.”

“No, I can’t.” He had tried. It was not possible. “It’s too weird with the kids in the house.”

“What?” Disbelief marred his features. “You said the same thing last night. Was that…was that the first time you’ve gotten off since we’ve been here?”

“Second time.” He was counting the time he had woken up in a pool of his own cum thanks to a wet dream.

“What the fuck, Stiles? I mean, I know you’re busy but...”

“It has nothing to do with my lack of time.” If he could do it, he would find the time. “I cannot cum when the kids are in the house.”

“You did last night.” Yes, he remembered that vividly.

“That was different. It was your hand on my dick.” There would have been an entirely different outcome if it were his own hand. “The first time I tried to get myself off in this house, I was in the shower and Abel came barging in to use the toilet. The time after that, again in the shower, Wendy came in and handed Thomas to me. He had a shit-splosion in his diaper. It was going up his back and his neck. She thought if I was already in the shower then I could clean him up to. Now, I cannot give myself an orgasm if I know the kids are home, and they are always home. I can play with myself all I want but I never make it to the finale.”

“That’s why I smelt pain on you last night, before we…” Juice was looking at him with pity now and that was not what he wanted to see. “You were in actual pain because you can’t get off.”

“Don’t make a big deal out it.” He hadn’t realized how self-conscious he was about it until he was under his husbands scrutiny. “I’m fine.”

“We’ve got eighteen years, at least, of children being under our roof.” At least meaning if the ones they had decided to never move out or if they did something crazy like attempt to adopt one. “Are you just going to go all those years without having an orgasm unless I give it to you?”

“That is not what I’m saying!” He was not going to put the burden of his sexual frustration onto Juice just because they were together. “You don’t have to…. I will deal with it. It is my problem, not yours.”

“Stiles – “

“Can we talk about this later?” He wrapped his arms around his torso, fighting the urge to curl in on himself. The was conversation was taking its toll and ruining the good mood he had previously been in.

“Stiles,” He pulled his gaze up to meet his husbands. “Come here.”

“Why?” His feet were moving before the question left his mouth, coming to a stop in front of the older man.

“Please?” Juice put his hands on Stiles hips, urging him forward until Stiles got the idea and straddled his lap awkwardly on the desk chair. “Okay?”

“You don’t have to do anything.” He would not ruin their relationship that way. He would not let Juice give him something simply because he couldn’t give it to himself. He wouldn’t use his husband as a tool.

“I’m not going to.” The older man rubbed comforting hand up and down his back. “I just want to talk. One of the things you and I do well is communicate.”

“Yeah.” They could talk through to each other about almost anything so easily. It was communicating with others that they had trouble with.

“You do realize that locking the bathroom door will keep anyone from walking in on you?” That was a very logical assumption. It was too bad that it wasn’t a formidable solution to his problem.

“What if one of the kids needs me?” He kept it unlocked so Abel could get to him in an emergency.

“Abel can knock.” That was true enough. “There are two other adults in this house capable of helping Abel and Thomas with whatever they need.”

“They are my responsibility. I have shucked enough of it on to you and Wendy.” He was so busy with school and work that taking care of the boys was a task he had left to them.

“We are a family, babe. It is not just your responsibility.” Juice tilted his head to the side, studying him. “You can’t get off because you are a giant control freak and you think you’re a shitty parent.”

“Th-that’s not true.” He spluttered indignantly.

“Yes it is.” Expressions of amusement and concern were fighting for a place on his husbands face. “There is a simple solution to this.”

“If there a simple solution I would have found it already.” He had rubbed his dick raw trying to find a way to cum. Nothing worked. “I’m all ears if you have any ideas about how to prevent a serious case of blue-balls.”

“Well, the easiest thing would be for you to let go of this idea that you are a horrible parent because you can’t be around twenty-four hours a day. It might alleviate some of that need you have to be tuned in with them every second that you are home.” He just wanted the boys to know he was there for them. “You could trust that Wendy and I can handle the boys just as well when you are home, as we do when you are not.”

“I trust you.”

“You could get in the shower tomorrow night, lock the door, maybe turn on the radio.” Juice trailed his hands beneath Stiles shirt, making him shiver and lean in to the contact.

“It doesn’t work. I’ve tried that.” He tried every time he got into the damn shower.

“I will stand in front of the door the entire time so no one comes in. If Abel and Thomas need anything during the twenty minutes you’re in there, then I will deal with it.” It was an idea, but he still doubted that it would actually work. “I could be in the bathroom with you, not in the shower, but in the room. I could talk you through it. How does that sound, hmm?”

“While I agree that would more than likely end in a successful jerk off session,” He was getting hard just thinking about it. “I have to be able to do it on my own, remember?”

“We will get you to cum off your own hand first, then we work on your being comfortable enough to do it all on your own.”

“You’re going to be my masturbation guru?”

“Yep, and your first appointment is tomorrow.” Stiles couldn’t help but pout. “You have a flight to catch and a non-refundable ticket.”

“Are you absolutely sure that’s today?”

“Yes I’m sure.”

“That sucks.” He buried his head in the crook of Juice’s neck. “We had a great night. We’ve had weird conversation but it’s been good. And we’ve been like this, with the close quarters, and I want it to keep going. I don’t want to go.”

“Look, eventually we are going to have to talk about what happened with us…and the guards. What happened to me with Tully, and Lin’s men.” Stiles wrapped his arms around Juice in an attempt to anchor him to the here and now. It was the only thing he could think of that could keep them both from falling into the past. “What it means for us now. What we can do and what we’re not ready for.”

They never talked about it. It was an unspoken rule that they didn’t. Stiles was well aware of what happened to Juice when he was locked up, without the older man having to say it outright. They were both present for the nightmare that was their conjugal visit. They knew but they didn’t talk about it. It was just something that happened, that they saw the consequences of every day.

“On an emotional level, nothing’s changed for us. We’re still all in.” Their love for each other was rooted deep inside of them. It was the one thing that could never be taken from them. “On a physical level, it’s different from how it used to be. A year ago, I bent you over my bike outside the clubhouse while the others were inside partying. Now, the last few months, I’ve been twitchy about even being touched.”

“I don’t blame you for that.” Considering what he went through, twitchy was a mild reaction compared to how bad it could be.

“We’re both tactile people, Stiles.” They had always been able to tell their secrets through their touch. “I’m getting better. I am. We’ve gotten closer, physically, even before last night.”

"We have.”

“You don’t have to be so timid with me.” Juice used a hand to guide him back just far enough so they could look each other in the eye. “If you want a hug, hug me. If you want to kiss me then kiss me. I won’t freak out.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” It was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

“I know you won’t hurt me.” There was such conviction in his voice that Stiles almost believed him. “When I was working on your piece of shit jeep yesterday, I realized that, for the first time in a long time, we are safe. That is why it was the way it was last night. It’s why you are on my lap right now. I know that I’m safe now and that no one is going to hurt me.”

“You will always be safe with me.” If there was one thing he wanted Juice to know, to remember for the rest of their lives, it was that. “I don’t know if I feel safe here, in Oregon, anymore than I did in Beacon Hills or Charming, but I know I feel safe with you. I have always felt safe with you. What happened with us and the guards, didn’t change that. You are still my safe place.”

Juice pulled Stiles into a kiss at the declaration. He couldn’t help but deepen it, to allow the older man’s tongue access. His hunger to be close to his husband had him thrusting his hips forward, only for Juice to grasp his hips between his hands, preventing him from repeating the move. Stiles could only whine in protest as their kiss was broken.

“When you get back from Charming, I want to have that talk about what we are both comfortable with.” Juice said after taking several deep breaths.

“Did I do something wrong?” He moved back, fully prepared to jump off his lap and put distances between them, so Juice could feel okay again.

“No. You did not do anything. Didn’t I tell you to stop being so timid?” Juice yanked him closer, bringing their cloth covered erections together. “Timid is not a good look on you.”

“You pulled away. You said we had to talk.”

“I pulled away because if we don’t get you to the airport soon you are going to be late.” If Stiles were standing he would have stomped his foot like a petulant two year old. If his trip was the only thing stopping them from spending the day in bed then he would cancel the whole damn thing. “I want to talk before we go further than handjobs, so we know where the boundaries are.”

“Okay, that’s a good idea.” He nodded along. “You know, I don’t have to go. I can stay here and we can talk now.”

“Non-refundable ticket, Stiles.” Money already spent that would be completely wasted if he didn’t go. Damn it.

“Why am I flying?” He hated flying. “If I was driving I could leave whenever I wanted.”

“The drive is over eight hours long. It would be a two-day trip instead of an overnight trip.” Yeah, that would really suck. “Flying is quicker, and given the distance it is cheaper than paying for gas. Also, you don’t have a car. The jeep is out of commission and we need the Volvo for the kids.”

“I have a motorcycle.” It wasn’t like he would sit his ass on one for eight straight hours though.

“You do, but you also have a plane ticket.” Juice patted him on the ass with both hands. “Come on, hot stuff. If you get dressed now we can pick up something for breakfast on the way to the airport.”

“Coffee?” He asked hopefully.

“You are an addict, Stiles.” Juice shook his head disapprovingly. “You don’t even get hyped up from it. You just like the way it tastes.”

“It’s tastes awesome.”

“You drink it black with a pound of sugar. It’s disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“That’s not what you said last night when you were licking up my cum.”

“I like the way you taste.” He purred against his husbands lips. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all.” Juice placed a quick kiss to his lips. “I might take advantage of it if we didn’t have somewhere to be.”

“Yeah, yeah. Airport. Charming.”

* * *

 

“How’s the chest?” Chibs asked as he sat down beside him on the couch.

“Stings.” He resisted the urge to rub a hand over his new tattoo. “Thanks for letting me get it. I know it’s a club thing.”

“You’re not a Son, but you are still apart of SAMCRO. It’s right for you to have it.” Stiles didn’t know what to think about that and he wasn’t willing to delve into the meaning behind it now. “Does Juice still have his?”

“No, we took care of that last week.” It was horrifying to watch, to see Juice subject himself to that. The smell of burning flesh took days to clear from the basement.

“How is he?”

“He’s getting better.” He repeated the words Juice had said to him that morning. “He told me he feels safe now.”

“That’s big. Safety means a lot to him.” If Juice didn’t feel safe then he became reckless. “How are you?”

“I’m getting better too.” A few weeks ago, he might not have been able to say that without lying. “Counseling is helping, I think. Juice and the boys being around, that helps.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. Juice called a couple of weeks ago and I got worried.” Chibs cast a cursory glance at Stiles palms. “How are the mitts?”

“They’re fine.” He pulled the sleeves of his shirt down to hide his hands from sight. “It was an accident.”

“I heard that to.” He obviously didn’t believe it anymore than Juice had. “Anything new going on?”

“Juice and I are going to open our own garage.” He sighed contently, happy to move the conversation to a much safer topic.

“When did you decide that?”

“This morning.” It was a decision they came to quickly, but it was not made on a whim. “It’s going to be Juice’s thing. I just have to get a loan first so we have the money to do it.”

“You serious about it?”

“Yeah.”

“I might be able to help you out.” Stiles had no idea whether to be interested or worried by the proposition. ”I’ve got some money saved up. I was going to use it for Kerrianne if she decided to come to the States for university. She ended up staying in Ireland, and Fiona has all her expenses covered.”

“I’m not taking your daughter’s college fund from you, Chibs.” That was just too much, even if Kerrianne wasn't going to use it. “I know you feel responsible for Juice and I, but you don’t have to take care of us that way. We will figure it out on our own.”

“I am responsible for you and Juicy, but I’m not giving you the money to take care of you.” Stiles furrowed his brows in confusion. “I’m not giving it to you at all.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Jax’s house.” That did nothing to help him figure out where this was going. “It’s still for sale. I want it.”

“You can have it.” The only thing Chibs had to do was ask and Stiles would have signed the deed over to him.

“I’m buying it from you, if you’ll let me.” Of course, he would let him. “That way you and Juicy-boy get your garage, and I get to live in a house that’s not such a shithole.”

“This place is kind of gross.” The mold in the bathroom was most definitely taking on a life of its own, but Chibs was rarely there so if probably didn’t bother him. “All of it has to be done officially. By the book. This garage is going to be a legal business. No guns. No drugs. No MC’s.”

“By the book.” Chibs agreed. “I was planning to ride up to Rogue River in a few weeks to check in on things there. I thought I might stop by your place. That alright with you?”

“Yeah, that would be great.” It would do he and Juice good to have Chibs with them for a few days. “You’ll probably see more of Juice than you will of me.”

“That’s fine. I don’t need to see your ugly mug.”

“Oh, fuck you.” He waved the older man off. “You love me and you know it.”

“Aye.” Chibs threw an arm over his shoulders, pulling him closer. “Miss you, kid. Both of you.”

“We miss you too.” He missed all of them, more so now because he knew he couldn’t just drive down to see them. There were too many miles separating them. “How’s the president’s patch treating you?”

“It sits pretty heavily on my kutte.” Chibs admitted, surprising Stiles with his honesty, he was half expecting him the brush off the question completely. “It’s not something I was prepared for. I’m learning how to navigate being the one to lead my brothers, to make the right choices.”

“The gavel corrupts.” Stiles whispered and felt Chibs tense against him. “I heard one of you say it a long time ago. It was true for JT, Clay, and Jax. The burden of that patch destroyed them all. Do not let it change who you are like it did them.”

“I won’t.”

“I mean it, Chibs. The club is not worth it.” It was not worth his sanity or his life. “If you feel it pulling you down then you have to get out.”

“I can’t make that promise.”

“Yeah, I know.” Chibs would die with or for the club, just as the others had.

“I’m not going to make the same mistakes as the men before me. That I can promise you.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” He dropped his head on Chibs shoulder, letting out a loud yawn.

“You should get some sleep. Your flight leaves at 6am.” The Scot seemed as happy about that as he was. “Why do you have to be back so damn early?”

“There’s this neighborhood barbecue we’ve been putting off that’s happening tomorrow.” Juice would be pissed if Stiles missed his flight, accidently of course, and made him and Wendy attend on their own. “It’s our initiation into the suburban lifestyle.”

“Does that initiation require a blood sacrifice?”

“Knowing our luck it probably does.”

* * *

 

How Stiles ended up being the one to strap on the baby backpack/carrier thing, he had no idea. He just knew that Juice took one look at him with it on and nearly fell down the steps he was laughing so hard. Wendy said he looked adorable and snapped a picture on her phone to send to everyone they knew. Stiles was a little apprehensive about it at first but Thomas seemed happy as could be on Stiles back, giggling and making nonsensical baby talk.

It was too bad that Thomas had fallen asleep a half-hour into the barbecue and was currently drooling into Stiles shirt, leaving him on his own to deal with the neighbors. Juice had taken over the grill almost as soon as they arrived, after dubiously eyeing the less than ideal job the original barbecuer had been doing. Wendy was making the rounds, chatting with the people she had met previously. Stiles had been left to his own devices, so he kept pretty close to Abel, who was kicking around a soccer ball with the other kids.

“Hello,” A petite redhead appeared out of nowhere in front of him. “I’m Melinda Hendrix. My husband and I live down the street.”

“Hi, I’m Stiles. My family and I live over there.” He jerked a thumb toward the house across the street.

“The Madock’s house.” Stiles decided he did not want to know why she looked so pleased by that information. “It has been on and off the market so many times in the last few years, we all assumed it was going to stay empty.”

“Oh.”

“You have no idea how refreshing it is to have a nice young couple move in to the neighborhood.” If Stiles didn’t know any better he would have called the look in her eyes predatory. “You and your wife are very beautiful.”

“My wife? No. I’m not- Wendy is my sister and the nanny. I’m married to him,” He pointed toward Juice, who had his back turned to them at the grill. “Who I agree is very beautiful…and mine.”

“Oh, I heard that rumor but I wasn’t sure whether to believe it or not. This neighborhood loves to gossip and you can never be sure what is true or not.” How thankful he was _not_ for ending up in that kind of neighborhood. “Forgive me for asking, please don’t find this offensive, but are you and your husband homosexuals or bisexuals?”

“Why does that matter?”

“I was simply wondering if you both enjoy the company of women as well as men.”

“We enjoy each other’s company.” That’s the only company that mattered. “Why do you care?”

“We have these parties once a month for adults. They're just little get togethers. We would be just delighted if you and your husband could attend so we could get to know you a little better.” Inviting him to some cocktail party didn’t seem like a reason to ask about his sexuality.

“I would have to ask JC and Wendy, and we would have to find a babysitter.”

“Couples only. Your nanny would be free to watch your kids.”

“Couples only?” What kind of party was couples only?

“Well, we don’t want anyone to feel left out or get too wild. Although pairs are welcome to come together if everyone is in agreement.” What was that supposed to mean? “However, on New Year’s Eve, we all do stay as a group to usher in the New Year with one big bang.”

“What?”

“Stiles!” Wendy took hold of his hand and, fuck, he hadn’t even noticed her next to him. “Your hubby’s looking for you. He wants your opinion on something.”

“Oh, okay.” He offered Melinda a polite smile. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well.” She kissed his cheek. “You let me know if you and your husband will be joining our little parties.”

“Uh…sure.”

He allowed Wendy to more or less drag him toward the barbecue. She had an odd expression on her face that he couldn’t really decipher when she all but shoved him against Juice’s side.

“What’s going on?” The older man asked as he continued to flip burgers.

“It’s probably best if you stick together.” Wendy suggested as she shot a suspicious glance toward the crowd of people. “You both get into too much trouble when left on your own.”

“What did you do?” Juice questioned but to his credit, there was more exasperation than accusation in his voice.

“Nothing. I was just talking.” He would be the first to admit that his mouth could get him into trouble, but he was not at fault for whatever Wendy thought he had done. It was an entirely innocent discussion, on his part at least.

“He got you invited to a swinger’s party.”

“What?” Juice’s hand stilled over the grill.

“That’s what that was?” The conversation with Melinda made a lot more sense now.

“The fact that you didn’t know that, gives me hope that you still retain some of your innocence.” Wendy patted his shoulder as she walked away.

“Yeah, you’re staying here.” Juice grabbed him by the belt, maneuvering him until they were standing hip-to-hip. “Our sex party days are behind us.”

“You won’t hear me arguing.” They may have participated in group sex, orgies, once or twice during Juice’s SAMCRO days, but partner swapping was never their thing. “Good for them, exploring their sexual kinks, but I don’t want to be involved.”

“Yeah, I think we’re good.”

“The barbecue is nice, though. Abel’s having fun with the other kids.” He looked over his shoulder to where his oldest nephew was smiling and laughing, like all kids should be. “It’s a bit of a culture shock, it’ll take time to get used to, but I think it’s going to be okay here. We will be okay here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TUMBLR](http://www.stilinski-ortiz.tumblr.com/)  
> [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/user/SandM1827/)  
>  Thank you for all the comments and kudos, they are greatly appreciated. Though I suck at replying back to comments lately. I'm sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> [TUMBLR](http://www.stilinski-ortiz.tumblr.com/)  
> [Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/user/SandM1827/)  
>  Thank you for all the comments and kudos, they are greatly appreciated.


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